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What to Write?

This topic is a tough one; whether to write what I think will sell, or what is in my heart waiting to come out. Since the beginning I have practiced the latter. I don't enjoy the majority of books that sell - weird, I know, seeing as I love reading and have at least three books on the go at any one time. I think I enjoy not enjoying them, in a way. It gives me satisfaction to throw a novel down and say 'I can do better than that!'

In the meantime I continue writing my own masterpieces. Marion Keyes says you should write the type of book you want to read. That was her pathway to success. No one was writing funny, but serious, novels about sexually active single women until she came along. Similarly, Patricia Scanlon broke new ground with her novel Apartment 2B. I ate up her novels when they first came out, and there's been a multitude of similar novels on the market ever since. But now I want to break new ground. I want to, and am writing, the kinds of books that I can't find on bookshelves in shops - a novel that is easy to read, but has the subject matter usually reserved to literary fiction. It's not an easy road to take. My 'soon to be I hope literary agent' classifies my writing as commercial literary fiction. Yes! I like it. That's the kind of book I like to read, but there aren't many of them about.

I am currently doing a re-write of my latest (and best) manuscript. After recently meeting with my dream publisher, my 'write from my heart' mantra has been severely tested. It's taken me over six weeks to sort out what I think and believe from what this editor thinks will sell. And I was sorely tempted to throw away my beliefs (held on to tightly for seven years) and jump in with the commercial view point. However, my heart groaned at the prospect. I barely wrote a word in weeks, and what I did write was akin to the type of material that I throw down in disgust. I was thoroughly miserable. In the end I had to ask myself what is more important 'Getting this novel published or being happy and peaceful?' Being peaceful won, and it suddenly seemed so simple that I wondered what all the fuss had been about.

It's not easy though, following ones heart. It's usually inconvenient and goes against what everyone else (publishers, sometimes friends, husbands and families want you to do). I've done it though, for the last seven years. And where has it got me? Through very difficult times, actually. I've also experienced an immense sense of satisfaction and achievement in doing what I was made to do (whether or not anyone likes the outcome). It has brought me a job that I love - teaching Creative Writing, and my own working hours. It has not brought me what I expected and hoped for - international fame as a published author - but, hey, maybe that is yet to come.

It's every day that counts though, isn't it? I'm doing what makes me peaceful and happy today.

Summer is coming - thank God - and I wake earlier as my bedroom faces East, and the sun rises over the Irish Sea upon us. Yesterday, for the first time this year, I took to the water and went paddle boarding in Skerries harbour. Curious seals watched me drift by, and people, who (like me) can knock off early from work, sipped summery drinks on chairs outside Blue Bar and Joe May's Pub. I remembered what the summer is like, and now I can't wait for it.
Already I'm making plans. In June, I'm running a week long summer course for adults in Skerries Mill and one for children/teens in July. In August I shall venture to Drogheda to run one for children/teens, and in July I am helping Claire Hennessey run a course in Rathdown School, Glenageary. In between all of that, I hope to go on holidays with my husband, and after that write, write, write!
It is not my natural inclination to plan ahead, just as I avoid plotting stories. Where's the fun in living, or writing, if you know what's going to happen? I'd much rather wait and see what occurs, however that approach, I have discovered, doesn't work so well in my line of work, so I am ringing venues, making posters and marking the calendar ahead. Once that's done (very soon I hope) I shall return to watching each day unfold, and in the words of the writer of the wonderful film 'Up' enjoying My Great Adventure!

Life.

I was going to write about 2010 and celebrating my birthday but what I really need to write about is depression. This month it stole a very good friend of ours. A lovely man called Alan, who was friendly, fun, incredibly generous and always ready for banter and slagging (and those inadequate words can't begin to describe the light and energy of Alan's soul). People who met him walked away smiling. He had that effect, and yet for over thirty years Alan battled privately with depression, all the while joking, laughing and helping out anyone who crossed his path.

I hate depression more than cancer. No one can comfort you, and anyway you feel so ashamed for feeling bad that you don't tell anyone. It is utterly lonely - a cold dark endless place where an evil voice tells you nobody loves you, you're worthless and a waste of space.

That you're better off dead.

At Alan's funeral some of us admitted that we know how this feels. But, except for at that funeral, very few of us ever tell each other because we're ashamed. We're supposed to be happy. But do you know what? There's nothing wrong with being sad. We need to reach out and tell each other if we're down and struggling. Not wait for someone to ring us up by chance to see how we are, and then say 'fine'.
Right now, I'm sad. So sad that this lovely man is gone. My prayer and hope is that no one else finds him or herself in that same place, ever.

Rest in Peace, Alan.

Good Books

In the last week I've read two books that were so good I was pinned to the sofa with my legs crossed when I needed to go to the loo. The first was 'The Brightest Star in the Sky' by Marian Keyes the second was 'Picture Perfect' by Jodi Piccoult. After Marion Keyes' last book 'This Charming Man' I wasn't too keen on buying the next one. 'This Charming Man' was so damned depressing that I wanted to burn it or throw it in a bin. I'd nearly lost my faith in Ms. Keyes, but only nearly. When my lovely sister asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I said 'The Brightest Star in the Sky', willing to give one of my favourite authors another chance. At first, I was bored and felt like ditching the thing. Who cared about a collection of individuals living in an old house that was converted into flats? However I plodded on, trusting Marion not to disappoint me. She didn't. The story of Maeve and Matt sneaks up on you. It's brilliant, under stated and truthful. It highlights the devastation of crimes against women, and the pathetic judicial system that is ours. I sat up straight when I realised that Marion Keyes was sending a message of hope to women who've been hurt by men, and telling them that she understands. I feels so grateful that Marion exists. Yes, she makes a fortune with her writing, but I don't think that's her objective. She wants to make a difference, she wants to highlight what is unfair and just plain wrong in our society. She makes me feel safer, and Marion has become a heroine of mine.
Another one is Jodi Picoult. I read 'Picture Perfect' yesterday, pretty much from start to finish. Like 'The Brightest Star in the Sky' it doesn't start off too well. The opening couple of paragraphs were good but soon after I would have lost interest if it wasn't Christmas and I didn't have time on my hands. However as I read on, I saw that this book has also got a message. It shows, in a way that I have never been able to understand before, why a woman stays with a man who beats her. She loves him completely and utterly, exactly as I love my husband, and when he hits her, he is so filled with remorse that she cannot bear to see it, and tries her best to comfort him so he won't feel so bad about it. It's brilliant. It's real, and the ending is not predictable. Jodi Piccoult is, in my opinion, a genius, and I was lucky enough to tell her so last year in Dublin when I met her. Marion Keyes is one too. And not only that, they're both concerned about the rest of us. That's the kind of writer I want to be.

Christmas!

I'm so glad it's Christmas. I received a card this week which said 'Time Stands Still at Christmas'. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I love the idea of everything being frozen, to give us a chance to hug, share food, sing, and just be.

It is only now that I've stopped that I realise how hard I've been working. I need to wrap up warm and rest, however, first I will visit a stable. My friend owns a beautiful horse called Harry, and on Christmas Eve I love to listen to him munch and watch the steam from his breath puff out of his pretty nose. I imagine what it was like for Mary giving birth in a stable, and every year I am struck by what a wise choice it was. Animals don't fuss - they gaze, chew and give comfort with their warmth.

I need that peace and silence today. The shopping is over - my fridge is packed full of sausages, cheese, wine, juice, rashers, cellery, carrots, potatoes, custard, cream, and everything else my husband and I imagine we might need to get us though to December 27th.

I am disappearing into this magical time, when all industry stalls. I hope you get lost there too. See you on the other side. Happy Christmas!

Booklets on Sale!

The booklet of short stories are gorgeous. Colourbooks Ltd (based in Baldoyle) did a brilliant job. The cover is smooth and glossy, and the inside smells like a new school textbook.
Producing the booklet was an absolute doddle this year in comparison to last. Two of my adult students, (Barbara Coleman and Carol Lee) did all the editing, and another (Maria Manueco) typed up the corrections. Last Christmas I was so tied up with editing, printing (and pulling my hair out) that my friends barely saw me, and I missed my quota of at least ten Christmas movies. This year is, oh so, different - I've already started watching Christmas movies. Today was the first - The Holiday with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz. I love when Kate Winslet's character arrives in L.A. and runs around the house squealing with delight. I would do exactly the same. Oh, the sunshine and swimming pool! What a perfect place to chill.
Perhaps, when one of my novels is made into a movie and I'm invited onto the set in L.A, I can run around a mansion in Beverley Hills too..... A girl can dream!